My Most Useful Possessions
by alicerosemalfoy
Summary: "I get what I want because my name's Draco Malfoy. I have many possessions, but none are more enjoyable than my five most useful..."  Draco needs what he can't buy, and that's where his most useful possessions come in.
1. Freckles

**AN: So, after nearly a year, I'm here re-uploading this story. It's still basically the same, just with some major improvements...another reason I'm doing this is because I won my school's writing with it, so I thought I'd share this new and improved version.**

**Freckles**

_I get what I want because my name's Draco Malfoy. I have many possessions, but none are more enjoyable than my five most useful…_

The Weaselette came to my attention last year when she fired a Bat-Bogey hex at my mate Blaise's head. I told him he was an idiot and that nibbling some ginger's ear didn't count as flirting; he's still nurturing a grudge. Despite her obvious affinity to swearing like a pirate, her raging outburst had been a beautiful scene. Her cheeks were flushed, her deep blue eyes glinting and that flaming red hair, which would have made me cringe were the situation any different, was flying around that little head of hers like a fiery halo.

She was indeed, as fierce as a dawn on a pure winter's day.

I _had_ to have her.

* * *

"Get off of me, Malfoy!" Ginny, the little Weaselette, snapped snatching her arm from my firm grip.

I smirked, how long could she keep up this act of denial? It was now nearly two months since her fiery outburst that had drawn me to her. Nearly two months since that first time I'd pulled her behind a tapestry. Nearly two months of sneaking, snogging and denial. She had never stopped struggling, and I doubt she ever will.

Now, I had caught her off guard after Transfiguration and pulled her into a hidden alcove behind a tapestry. That was the true magic of Hogwarts: if you didn't want to be found, you probably wouldn't be. This was a particularly quiet part of the castle, you could even hear the lapping of the waves from the Black Lake against the shore, or the whisper of the leaves as the trees in the Forest told of ancient secrets.

Nobody would find us here. Nobody ever did.

"Tut tut, Freckles. That's not very nice, now is it?"

Her face changes when I call her by my pet name for her. Dark blue eyes flashed up at me in what was meant to be anger, but I saw the suppressed passion.

She couldn't resist me. Nobody ever could. She would crack eventually.

"You're such a prat Malfoy."

This was going to be fun. "And you're such a right little beast, Freckles."

I always give my possessions nicknames. Real names are too personal, you run a risk of getting too attached. And that's not an option.

"I'm sick of this! This is wrong. Don't think I haven't heard the stories, Malfoy. Everyone knows how you play the game. I refuse to be another one of your little pets! Another one of your pleasures."

"And yet," I mused, "why aren't you running?" I watched as her jaw clenched, I could almost hear her brain chugging away to find an answer, cogs turning.

Of course, just like all the others, she couldn't find one.

I closed the gap between us, backing her up against the bricks. I heard her breath hitch and felt her heart thumping against my chest. I smiled to myself; she could pretend all she liked and scratch, bite and claw, but I knew what she denied. I knew what I did to her, of course I did. How could I possibly not notice? I'm actually surprised nobody's figured it out yet, she's like an open book. The way she looks at me when we pass in the halls – the pure, undulated _lust _- , she makes it so painfully obvious.

I let the tip of my nose trail along her pale, freckled cheekbone, smirking as she shuddered against me.

Oh, what a scandal this would cause: Ginny Weasley, the Chosen One's precious girlfriend, secretly meeting me, the notorious bad-boy Slytherin in a chilly alcove.

Classy.

But that's the way I run things. That's the way I play the game.

Freckles is one of the special ones. One of the useful ones. You see, I need them; the useful ones, because they help me achieve the things, the attitudes and behaviours I wouldn't be able to master otherwise. I can admit that without shame.

Most of my possessions aren't useful: they're ordinary. Nothing special. So I pass them on, leaving them as second helpings to my followers. Scraps.

That's the good thing about possessions: they're disposable.

Freckles, however, offers a challenge each and every single time. She's feisty and dependable. She fights back. She keeps me entertained and sharp; I couldn't say what I would do without her. When I'm bored I do things that would send shivers down your spine. You wouldn't be able to sleep comfortably at night. Sometimes, even I, have trouble; that's when I go to her. She's what helps me sleep at night.

That's why she's one of my most useful possessions.

* * *

**AN: And? Tell me what you think! :)**


	2. Petal

**Petal**

_I get what I want because my name's Draco Malfoy. I have many possessions, but none are more enjoyable than my five most useful…_

She's an unassuming little thing: petite and quiet. A Hufflepuff. People don't notice her.

But I did.

She bumped into me at the beginning of the year; so terrified she was. Her big blue doe-eyes as wide as saucers, her hands shaking to pick up her fallen books. I stood still: a predator watching its prey. Lion and lamb. We were the freeze frame; that moment just before the fatal leap and kill when the leaves stop rustling and the birds stop singing. The calm before the storm.

Then she stood up, arms cluttered with blotchy parchment and bent quills. She broke the ice freezing time and space.

"You're Hannah, right? Hannah Abbot?" I asked. She squeaked and tried to dodge me, but I caught her by the elbow and spun her around.

Nobody dodges a Malfoy, ever.

* * *

We're in our broom closet. As usual. It's a bit dusty in here, but that works just fine for me. Filch, the rotten old caretaker, hasn't been anywhere near it in years - I made sure of that. Our only regular audience is that little spider hanging in the corner, but I doubt he's anything to worry about.

It was Blaise who actually discovered this place a while back and handed over ownership to me after he was finished with it. I must admit, I quite like it. It's cozy, in a disgusting, grubby sort of way. Even if it is a bit cold – the East wing was always a little draughty.

I don't think she likes it too much though, but it's not her place to complain. She belongs to me, she's my possession. I choose where we meet up. End of discussion. Nobody dares question me.

They're all too scared.

"This is against the rules, Malfoy. Wrong on so many levels." Hannah whispers, avoiding my gaze.

"Shhh, Petal," I place my index finder under her chin, forcing her to look up at me. She was the shy, timid and submissive one. She was the guilty one. The one who loved it, but hated herself for it. "it's never stopped us before."

She closes her eyes, trying to close me out. "This has to stop. All of it. The others would never forgive me."

I raise my pale eyebrow at her. "Since when does it matter what the others think? You only live once. We're not some Phoenix that just pops up after we burst into flames and says: 'Hey guys, it's me again! Did you miss me?'" My voice is cold when I say it, biting and nipping like the hard fangs of a British Autumn wind. Yet...

That was all it took. She opens her eyes, looking straight at me. She is so easily convinced. Still such a naïve girl. "You're right. You always are. You're good to me, always treat me well."

There's something seriously wrong with that. I have no idea where she's been these last few months, because I doubt any sane girl would agree with her. But no girls really are sane, are they?

Petal certainly isn't.

I make her hide with me in filthy broom closets, where only the rats and the spiders dare go, because to me she's just a mere possession, nothing more.

I use her. I need what she has to offer.

The day will come when she will hate me, when she'll blush a hideous shade of red in the corridors and hallways between classes; marking her as used goods – as my sloppy seconds.

But I'm used to that, used to the hatred emanating and seeping from their pores.

And I relish in it.

Rampaging girls just make my life that bit more interesting.

That day always comes, because even my most useful possessions get worn out and over-used. Boring. The day always comes when I don't need them anymore: When I've sucked everything that I need out of them. To the stage when they feel like they've reached a point of no return.

Petal, shivering slightly here in front of me in the draught, is so fragile, so breakable.

I'm sure I could snap her neck in half if tried to. Not that I'd want to just yet. Simply the thought of the risk of breaking her pleases me. Makes me feel stronger.

With her I have to be cautious. Gentle even. She offers me the opportunity to practise self-control, something that is desperately necessary in my circumstances.

The situation with my family and our associations is complicated. Dark.

I'm only seventeen, but I've killed people before. I was too rash - couldn't control myself. That's why she's one of my most useful possessions.

* * *

**AN: I will love you forever if you drop me a line :)**


	3. Dumpling

**Dumpling**

_I get what I want because my name's Draco Malfoy. I have many possessions, but none are more enjoyable than my five most useful…_

Turns out Granger has a good right hook. I would know, she fractured my jawbone in third year. I couldn't believe it at first when she dared lash out. Nobody had ever punched me.

But then again, I'd provoked her.

She doesn't seem like the type to get aggressive, Ronald Weasley, alias Carrot-Top's always been the hot head of the Golden Trio. But I guess I was the straw that broke the hypothetical Unicorn's back.

She infuriates me. There, I said it: Hermione Jean Granger infuriates me. In fact, she makes my blood boil more violently than Professor Snape's most potent potion.

She's always ahead of me in school - she's my biggest competition. I don't like people being better than me, because, clearly I'm the best at everything. Or I was until she showed up.

She fascinates me and disgusts me. She's just a filthy mudblood. But I need her. Or rather, what she has to offer me.

* * *

Monday's our day. Potter and the Weasel are at Extra Potions. They'll never know what their friend's been up to. Because if they did, I doubt she'd be their friend for very long. And she knows that as much as I do.

"I don't think this is a very good idea. It's too risky, Malfoy. Anybody could come walking past at any second and find us. And then there'd be a_ huge_ riot and we'd have to talk to Dumbledore. And McGonagall would be ever so disappointed and Snape would just about stick me in a cauldron and kill me. You know exactly how much that guy creeps me out!" Dumpling took a long breath, before continuing with her vigorous speech, " But Snape wouldn't even get a chance to kill me because the whole of Gryffindor House would have already slaughtered me; Harry would never talk to me again and Ron would probably go jump off the top of the Astronomy Tower!"

I silently wondered why that would be such a bad thing.

"And even if Dumbledore would be able to keep me alive I'd still have to transfer schools or something and I just couldn't_ bear_ leaving Hogwarts!"

I listened patiently as she did her weekly rant, I was used to it by now. She just kept on repeating the same old things over and over again, like some sort of broken gramophone that everyone's too attached to to throw out.

It was a bit annoying actually.

I pushed off from the wall I was leaning against, because I knew she was nearly finished giving out, and placed my hand on her surprisingly tiny waist.

"Relax Dumpling. Trust me." I had to smirk at that. Nobody in their right mind should trust me of all people. And she of all people should know that. So, I was a bit surprised when I felt her muscles relax against my touch. Was she actually trusting me? Her? Merlin, she was supposed to be the brightest witch of our age, and there she goes and decides to trust me! What was the world coming to? Maybe I should be on the look-out for snow in August and flying pigs.

She grinned sheepishly up at me. "I am a bit paranoid, aren't I?"

Yes, yes she was. But I couldn't tell her that. I still needed her. And it would be slightly inconvenient if I had to keep her here by force. Not that it would be particularly hard of course, seeing as she was just a mere mudblood, a possession, and I was the pureblood Slytherin Prince and Captain of the Quidditch Team.

I wrapped my arm around the small of her back, and instantly I could feel nervous waves radiating from her. I smirked, if I can coax this kind of reaction from Dumpling then I truly have the gift. The gift of corruption.

I could have any girl in this school, but I chose her. Just because I need her, but she doesn't need know that. She should feel honoured.

Dumpling is intelligent. A brain on two legs, it kills me to admit it, but she is. And that's why I need her, that's why I decided to take her as my possession. She's smart. She knows I could destroy her whole life with one slip of my tongue. So we have a little bargain. Dumpling offers me academic glory.

If I keep my mouth shut about our weekly…escapades, she keeps her mouth shut in class and plays dumb for the whole world to see. It's hard to believe she agreed, but she did and that's all that counts. That's why she's one of my most useful possessions.

* * *

**AN: You all know what I want, right? ;D**


	4. Doll Face

**Doll Face**

_I get what I want because my name's Draco Malfoy. I have many possessions, but none are more enjoyable than my five most useful…_

She's completely loony. Just what I need. She captured my interest when she shamelessly stepped into our compartment of the Hogwarts Express and offered us the latest edition of the Quibbler. Usually this would mean something close to a death sentence. But she seemed totally oblivious of this unspoken, sacred code of our fellow students. It wasn't bravery, and most definitely not stupidity. I could tell. It was something completely on the opposite end of the scale: innocence. Very hard to come by these days and just what I needed.

I wanted her in my collection. I wanted to possess her.

* * *

Her big blue eyes blinked up at me. Looking at her like that; her pale cheeks flushed pink from the biting cold, her long, pale blonde hair falling down to her waist, her weird radish earrings swinging softly in the wind; I realise why she's still wrapped in innocence. It's because she still looks like a young girl, because she still gets treated like one. Well, I'm not complaining. Innocence is what I wanted, it's the one thing I didn't think I'd actually get, but I did.

Because I'm a Malfoy.

"Blibbering Humdingers infest these stands, you know?" Luna, fondly patted the bench we were sitting on, out on the Slytherin stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch. I had no idea what in the name of Merlin she was on about again.

Innocent. I had to keep reminding myself that she was innocent. And not barking mad.

I pulled her onto my lap, non-too gracefully - more like she was a sack of potatoes, and nuzzled into her neck. She smelled of the cinnamon buns that we'd gotten for breakfast, summer leaves and, quite bizarrely, of radishes.

She giggled and I started trailing butterfly kisses along her jawbone. I smirked, this was a piece of cake. I didn't even have to try that hard to get her, she just trotted along happily like a puppy on a leash. My other possessions I had had to drag behind me to get them to finally realise that they didn't have an option. That they didn't have a choice once I had selected them. There was no way out apart from being disposed of.

The giggling girl on my lap was as light as a feather and as pure as Chinese porcelain.

Doll Face was what I called her.

Dolls never seem to lose their innocence, no matter what you do to them. They always keep that same pouty smile, the same glittering eyes, the same small stature. But once you break them they can't be fixed.

I could do so many things to Doll Face, things that would shatter her to a million and one pieces, and yet she'd still look the same. I intend to shatter her innocence, see what happens. I'm curious.

How easy is it to break a doll? I really want to know.

Her purity is my strength. She's the light to my darkness, and not in a poetic way. I glory in the sight as the darkness takes the day.

Doll Face offers me power beyond all of my other possessions. I can do to what I like. Play with her in my own world. Throw her around like a rag doll. Or simply rip off her head.

That's how I play my game. I'm the only winner. All the others die.

I like power.

I'm thirsty for more.

That's why she's one of my most useful possessions.

* * *

**AN: I shall shower you in Unicorn sparkles if you review...pretty please? :3**


	5. Kitty

**Kitty**

_I get what I want because my name__'__s Draco Malfoy. I have many possessions, but none are more enjoyable than my five most useful__…_

She's always been my possession. For as long as I can remember. Since day one.

It's a bit odd our situation because she's my best friend. When we were five we made daisy chains together out in the summer sunshine, giggling and rolling in the little white flowers.

When we were seven we built a model replica of Hogwarts out of snow, based on a picture she found in one of the books in her father's library.

When we were ten we ran away from home and set up camp in the woods, only to realise that we were both scared of the dark.

We've been to all of each other's birthday parties. And all along she's been my possession. Pansy doesn't realise. She thinks what we have is real. She believes in a thing called love.

But what is love, really? It comes and goes, but possessions stay whether they want to or not.

* * *

I really shouldn't be surprised anymore; Pansy's always up for anything. She has no shame. No sense of danger. She's a risk taker.

I'm being led down a deserted hallway by her in the depths of the night. She's giggling madly and telling me about some sort of gossip I'm absolutely not interested in.

But that's Kitty for you. She never shuts up.

Suddenly I stop dead in my tracks. I can feel my pupils dilating in anger.

What am I letting her do? I own her. Not the other way round. Why am I following her when she's the one supposed to be trailing behind me like the good little possession that she is? I grab her by the arm and spin her around. I can see a hint of pain in her eyes.

I'm nearly impressed, she's getting better at masking her emotions.

I know she'll have bruises later, and she knows it too.

"What's wrong, Drake?" she smiles up at me. She knows exactly what's wrong, I'm sure of it. She knows I'm not a follower, I'm a dictator. A commander. But what she doesn't know is that she's my foot soldier, my servant, my possession. I don't bother to answer but start walking in the opposite direction. She'll follow.

I haven't walked three feet, when I can hear the irritating clack-clack of Kitty's high heels following me. Good girl.

I love the way I can do anything with Kitty, she's never scared to try new things.

So today we'll try something new. Take a risk. Have some fun.

I enjoy fun, I never get to have it unless I'm with her. My life is too dark. I have too many secrets that need to be hidden away. You could say that my secrets are shrouded in darkness, and my darkness is shrouded in secrets. Either one would work.

So today I'll have fun because she knows all but one secret: That she's a piece in my game. A mere pawn.

She's followed me into the Charms classroom. Good.

She walks up to me, hips swinging unnaturally. "So Drake…" she plays with the top button of my favourite blue silk shirt.

"So Kitty…" I growl back, delicately touching each of the faint little scars on her neck that she tries so hard to cover up. Pansy's good at covering painful things up.

My name for her suits her better than her real name ever will. She has claws, and isn't afraid to use them. But she also has a soft spot, buried deep inside under all that envy, anger and bitterness for what happened to us.

In a way she's a lot like me, and yet she's still far from what I've become: A monster.

She's corruptible: it's so easy to feed her lies.

She's simple: she has a one track mind.

And she's as happy as one can be when you've witnessed the things we have. It's quite admirable really. I would nearly feel bad for using her to selfishly, but I don't. Because I'm twisted. Ruthless. Cold-blooded. She knows how to enjoy herself, how to make herself happy for just a small while. She makes me forget.

That's why she's one of my most useful possessions.

* * *

**AN: So, that's it :) Please do tell me what you think, yeah? I'll be a very happy girll if you do!**


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